The Craven
by Saranacian Freak
Summary: My sucky Saranac version of The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe. And I was NOT referring to Nicole or Scott Craven with this. Craven is used to describe a person. I wrote this sophomore year for the lit book.


The Craven   
  
By Kate Settlemyre  
  
Once upon a school year dreary, while my mind wandered, worn and weary,  
  
Over many an obscure fact in the class we most abhor,  
  
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,  
  
As of someone come to rescue me, rapping at the door.  
  
"'Tis some foolish person skipping," Mike mumbled, "tapping at the door...  
  
"Only one of THEM, and nothing more."  
  
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the hopeless September,  
  
As students dying of boredom writhed upon the carpeted floor.  
  
Eagerly I wished for summer vacation, filled with sorrow  
  
Perhaps I'd drop out upon the morrow, thus surceasing my sorrow  
  
Over the depression of this needless torture  
  
Nameless here for evermore.  
  
And the sad oppressed rustling of test papers in the teacher's hand  
  
Thrilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors of failures felt far too often   
  
before;  
  
So that now, to the rapid beating of my heart, I sat, moaning, ignoring the   
  
test, and moaning,  
  
"'Tis some skipping person begging refuge through that vile door-  
  
Some foolish person entreating entrance through that horrid door, -  
  
This it is, Mike, and nothing more."  
  
Pretty soon my resolve grew stronger, hesitating then no longer,  
  
"Hey you," I said, "Pardon, why are you banging on our door?  
  
The fact is that I was napping, and so rudely you came a-tapping,  
  
And so you heralded that vile test which all of us abhor,  
  
I was sure, sure I heard you"-here I flung open the silent and uncaring door;-  
  
An empty hallway there, and nothing more.  
  
Far down towards the cafe staring, long I stood there, uncaring,  
  
Whether they were there for me or had come the teacher to implore;  
  
But the quiet was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,  
  
And the only words I heard spoken were "Test!" Then someone swore,  
  
Then I whispered back, and an echo murmured back the words "Someone   
  
swore!"- Merely this, and nothing more.  
  
Back into the classroom I was turning, all of us with curiosity burning,  
  
When suddenly we heard a rapping, obnoxiously louder than before.  
  
"Definitely," said Mike, "that is someone goofing off, the fool"  
  
"Let me see," I said then, "What the weird noise is, and sneakily get out of   
  
my test while I this mystery explore-  
  
Let my heart be still a moment in dread fear, and this mystery explore;-  
  
To see if 'tis a fool, a fool and nothing more."  
  
Here I flung open the door, as everyone watched, for  
  
In there stepped a cringing coward of the sniveling days of yore;  
  
No genuine respect did he show us, nor did he stand still for any time;  
  
But crawled under a desk upon the floor-  
  
Lay twitching there under a desk upon the floor-  
  
Sat, curled into a ball, and did nothing more.  
  
Then this strange person, twitching and smiling,  
  
Put its hand upon my favorite pencil, and suddenly I swore,  
  
"'Tis my favorite pencil, thou fool," I said, "You foolish craven,  
  
Ghastly twitching craven wandering in from who knows where...perhaps a   
  
distant place I know from long before-  
  
Tell me what your lovely name is, I implore!"  
  
Quoth the Craven, "Nevermore."  
  
Much I marveled this strange person to hear speak so plainly,  
  
Watching its features so ungainly, I realized how little relevancy his answer   
  
bore;  
  
For we cannot help agreeing that no known human being  
  
Has ever been met by such a figure coming through the door-  
  
Strange craven or fearful minion of some greater force less poor,  
  
With such a foolish name as "Nevermore."  
  
But the craven, sitting lonely under the desk, merely said  
  
That one word, with gravity as if his soul he did outpour.  
  
Nothing further did he utter, quivering like melted butter,  
  
'Til Mike was induced to mutter, "Other cravens have been here before-  
  
On the morrow he will be gone, like so many times before."  
  
Then the Craven said again in trembling tones, "Nevermore."  
  
Startled by the stillness broken by the unasked for statement spoken,  
  
"Doubtless," said I, "That's it's whole vocabulary, nothing more,  
  
Stolen from some quiet maniac wearing grooves upon his floor,  
  
Stolen from some maniac whose ravings followed fast and followed faster   
  
'till his songs one burden bore-  
  
'Till the dirges of his dead and dying Hope that small yet weighty burden   
  
bore  
  
Of 'Never-nevermore'."  
  
But still the Craven sat there quivering, fearfully trembling and shivering,   
  
So I wheeled the teacher's chair over in front of the Craven to guard the   
  
door,  
  
Then upon the chair plopping, my mind at nothing stopping  
  
Guessing the origin of this Craven who had the nerve to say "Nevermore..."  
  
What did this grim, ghastly, ominous monster mean in croaking   
  
"Nevermore"?  
  
This I sat guessing, but none of my questions expressing,  
  
To the Craven whose frightened eyes rested now upon a discarded apple   
  
core;  
  
This and more I sat there pondering, my precious test time I was   
  
squandering,  
  
In the class that was such a bore,  
  
The vile class that was such a horrid bore,  
  
I sat thinking....hmm..catchy ring to it...nevermore?  
  
Then I thought the air got denser, strangely enough,  
  
Everyone seemed frightened by the Craven, whose trembling left marks   
  
upon the carpeted floor.  
  
"Wretch," I cried, "Who has sent thee?  
  
Respite! Respite! Go away now! I'll ask you kindly, as I lead you to the   
  
door,  
  
And don't dare to come back to bug us anymore!"  
  
Quoth the trembling Craven, "Nevermore."  
  
"Monster!" said Mike, "Thing of evil! Monster still, if human or devil!  
  
Whether sent by wind or tossed from far off oceans here ashore,  
  
Why are you in Saranac? This is too weird,  
  
I want to know, and know now, what it is that you're here for,  
  
Tell us now to make our test much less of a bore."  
  
Quoth the Craven, "Nevermore."  
  
"Monster!" I yelled, "Thing of evil, monster still, if human or devil!  
  
By boredom that kills us all, regardless of what we do,  
  
Tell me why you are here, and I will bother you no more,  
  
I want to know, as Mike says, what your word is for,  
  
Only this, and nothing more.  
  
Quoth the Craven, "Nevermore."  
  
"Be that word our last word, freak or devil," I shouted, upstarting-  
  
"Go back to the class you came from, foolish craven one we no longer   
  
adore,  
  
Your vocabulary is sadly lacking, and so on you I feel like smacking,"  
  
I lost control as I began to roar,  
  
"Get thee back out that vile door!  
  
Remove your hand from my pencil, and yourself from off our floor!"  
  
Quoth the Craven, "Nevermore."  
  
And the Craven, often twitching, still is sitting, his head is itching, he's gone   
  
from whatever class he's ditching,  
  
Curled up under a vacant desk upon the carpeted floor;  
  
And his eyes have all the gleaming of a school food gravy that is steaming,  
  
And the light that casts itself pale upon the carpet, throws his cringing   
  
shadow 'cross the floor;  
  
And my soul is fearful of that craven that lies twitching on the floor  
  
But still we are happy, still we are happy, for we shall have tests-nevermore! 


End file.
